Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of
by Arwen Lune
Summary: One-shot collection, loosely in the same AU, all B/B relationshippy
1. No Matter What Distress

_No Matter What Distress_

* * *

"No, Bones, just wait a minute, okay?"

She frowned at him, an expression he was used to seeing in the lab but rarely saw in their private time together. It seemed out of place with the beautiful gown and elaborate updo she was wearing for this museum opening.

Booth got out of the car, straightening his jacket. They'd been to a few museum openings together, but this was the first time they were _together_. It felt so different that it seemed like everybody should be noticing.

He grinned as he walked around to the other side of the car. She looked like she wantedto rol her eyes at him.

He opened the door for her and offered his hand to help her out. She grudgingly accepted.

"Why do you hate it when I open the car door for you?" he asked after she'd shaken out her skirts and they were strolling up the red carpet.

"It's an archaic convention based on the misogynistic concept that a woman is too weak to open a door for herself or be unaccompanied in public, so she should wait until the man collects her," she declared.

A few years ago he would have felt chastised, but he'd learned that usually she answered his question literally, and did not mean it as criticism on him.

"I do, however," she took a deep breath, "recognise that you intend it as a thoughtful gesture and not as a reflections on my abilities as a woman. I can... appreciate the sentiment of opening a door for someone... it just makes me feel like an idiot to sit there in the car waiting for someone to open the door for me."

He chuckled. Put like that he could understand. Opening a door for someone when that fit in the flow of things was fine, and she'd never objected to that, and done it for him sometimes. But being told to stay and wait until someone else did something you were perfectly capable of doing yourself... he could see how that would feel weird.

She turned toward him, smiled a smile that had been close by a lot, of late. Warm. Laughter in her eyes.

"Even though I prefer to open my own car door, I still think of you as my knight in gleaming FBI-issue armour."

That made him laugh softly, and he ghosted his hands over her face, mindful of the carefully applied makeup. Wanted to dig his fingers into her hair, but didn't want to ruin the elegant way she'd styled it. Settled for gently cradling her jaw, brushing the softest, gentlest kiss against her lips.

"Well, not every knight has a lady who can beat up her own black knights, you know. It takes some getting used to-"

"-if you're going to use the word 'damsel' next..." she interrupted with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"In all the time I've known you, you've not been damsel-like at all - no matter _what_ distress."

* * *

This was a little one-shot after I noticed the tendency in fanfic for Booth to open the car doors for Brennan. While I can believe he might want to, there's just no way in hell I can see her sitting there waiting until he's walked around to open the door!


	2. The Urge In The Night

_The Urge In The Night_

_

* * *

_

Something was nagging at him, some unfamiliar sound. Though he was supremely comfortable, it dragged an unwilling Seeley Booth out of a deep, deep sleep.

"Whu..." he muddled through the layers of consciousness. He wasn't at home, felt disorientated for a moment. Unfamiliar sounds. Very comfortable bed, with incredibly soft sheets. Heady scent in his nose. The sheets smelled of her.

_Her_ bed. Oh yes.

A few months ago they'd finally found themselves on the same page, and had started something even she referred to as a relationship. Just a very slow, very cautious one. They went on dates, all sorts of activities. They enjoyed each other's company.

The time they'd spent in private had mostly been at his place - he'd felt instinctively that that was more comfortable to her, left her an escape hatch. She would never ask him to leave when he was at her place, and he could not always tell when she wanted to be alone; if they were at his, she could simply decide to go home.

He knew that the intimacy of it all, not physically but emotionally, was still daunting. It was only three weeks ago that she'd still been there in the morning, for the first time hadn't slipped out of his bed late at night to get dressed and disappear. He'd tried not to let her feel his disappointment, tried to simply accept what she could offer, but he'd still been overjoyed to wake up next to her. They'd even shared breakfast, and then, after a goodbye kiss that had merited a cold shower afterward, she had gone home to work on her book.

He'd found wells of patience for her that he hadn't known he possessed, especially after she'd learned to tell him when things got too much. Too fast. Too intense. He respected the boundaries and in reward saw how her comfort zone slowly expanded.

He stretched luxuriously, enjoying the memory of last night, and then abruptly realised that he was alone in the bed. Her side was empty - and cold.

_Was it too much for her after all?_

He'd offered to go home, give her her space back, but after a moment of consideration she'd tucked her face into the crook of his neck, naked bodies melded together in a warm, lazy haze, and whispered that she'd like him to stay.

_Maybe I shouldn't have, anyway._

Feeling fully awake now, he noticed the time on the bedside alarm. 03:42. Hmm. Only a few hours of sleep, but it was worth it, their time together always was.

He sat up in bed and concentrated on the sounds, trying to find the one he'd been vaguely aware of as he woke. It was gone. Strange. Just a random sound that was normal in this apartment block? No, there it was again, short bursts of a soft tapping sound.

He swung his legs off the bed, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got to his feet.

_taptaptaptap..taptap...taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap-tap_

He followed the sound to the source and found her at her desk in the darkened living room, face lit by the screen of her laptop. She was perched on her deskchair, full attention on her screen, typing away like her life depended on it.

He smiled when he realised she was wearing his t-shirt from last night. Nothing else.

He came up from the side, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey..." she said distractedly. "Did I wake you?"

_taptaptaptaptap_

"I missed you," he smiled in the dark.

"I had this idea and I just wanted to write it down... but I didn't want to wake you."

She had her hair wound up in a loose bun, skewered with two pens. He'd marvelled at that when he'd seen her do it before, a time in the lab when her loose hair had bothered her. Very tempting to pull out the pens and watch it all tumble down about her shoulders.

_Better not annoy her_. She was in work mode. Focused.

He let his hand drift to the nap of her neck, stroking gently. Her skin was cold.

"How long ago was that?"

"Um..." she checked something at the bottom of the screen. "About three thousand words ago?"

He chuckled, both hands gliding over her shoulders now, warming cold muscles. Sounded like the inspiration had run off with her.

"Why don't you come back to bed?"

"I want to find out where.. this bit of the story is going."

"I meant with the laptop. Sit up against the headboard or something."

Her hands paused, and she glanced up at him with a slight smile.

"You'll be a lot warmer... and you can still work. I'll sleep through it."

"Can you really sleep like that?"

He shrugged.

"I think so - it's not that loud. I woke up because you were gone."

"Hmm." She saved her document on the slimline laptop and stood up, moving a little stiffly. "Sit here and be cold, or work in a warm bed with an attractive naked man next to me."

"Life is full of hard decisions," he smirked, pulling her close against him for a moment. The scent of her hair filled his nose. Made him think back to last night, her hair curtaining their faces as she was on top of him. Made him want her again.

_Better not go down that trail of thought. She's gonna kill me if I disrupt her writing spell._

Plus, taking care of her while she worked might show her that she could do work while he was there. That she didn't always need to be alone to get anything done.

He guided her back toward the bedroom.

"I guess I _am_ rather cold."

He might have felt mildly insulted had he not seen the gleam in her eyes.

* * *

"Are you able to sleep like this?"

"Mmmm..." he nuzzled his face against her hip. She was sitting upright in bed, pillows piled up against the headboard, with him close against her side, his arm slung lightly over her legs.

She was warming up, muscles relaxing.

From up close the typing sound was actually somewhat soothing, now he knew what made it, now he knew she was near. He let it lull him back to sleep, forehead against her hip. Warm. Close. Good.

As he drifted off, he thought he felt a gentle hand stroke his hair.

He smiled against her skin.


End file.
